Maddison Winchester: Journal 1 {Supernatural}

7 Hook Man: Part 2

We all grabbed some files out of the boxes and began reading. After a few hours, the library started clearing out, and we had gotten through almost all the files. We had barely talked the whole time.

Sam finally broke the silence. "Hey, check this out."

Dean and I walked over to him.

He pointed to a paper. "1862. A preacher named Jacob Karns was arrested for murder. Looks like he was so angry over the red-light district in town that one night he killed thirteen prostitutes. Uh, right here..." He pointed to a section on the paper and read, "'Some of the deceased were found in their bed, sheets soaked with blood. Others suspended upside down from the limbs of trees as a warning against sins of the flesh.'"

Dean picked up another page. "Get this, the murder weapon? Looks like the preacher lost his hand in an accident. Had it replaced with a silver hook."

"Look where all this happened," Sam said, pointing to another page.

"'9-Mile Road,'" Dean and I read in unison.

"Same place where the frat boy was killed," Sam said.

"Nice job, Dr. Venkmen. Let's check it out," Dean said, patting Sam on the back.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

We parked on 9-Mile Road in a wooded area near a lake.

"Stay here, Maddi. This could get dangerous," Dean said, and then he and Sam got out of the car.

I groaned and put my head back against my seat, crossing my arms.

Dean opened the trunk of the car, and they rifled through some things until they found what they needed. "Here you go," he said.

"If it is a spirit, buckshot won't do much good," Sam said.

"Yeah, rock salt," Dean said.

They were talking about the salt bullets Dean and Dad had made for their shotguns for when they had to deal with angry spirits.

"Huh. Salt being a spirit deterrent," Sam said.

"Yeah. It won't kill 'em. But it'll slow 'em down," Dean said and closed the trunk.

They started walking toward the trees in front of the Impala.

"That's pretty good. You and Dad think of this?" Sam asked.

Dean laughed. "I told you. You don't have to be a college graduate to be a genius."

They suddenly stopped, Sam held up his gun, and Dean pointed into the woods. I quickly hopped into the front seat, hoping I would see what they were looking at.

A sheriff came out of the woods. "Put the gun down now! Now! Put your hands behind your head."

I quickly crouched down, not wanting him to see me.

"Wait, okay, okay!" Dean yelled.

"Now get down on your knees. Come on, do it! On your knees! Now get down on your bellies. Come on, do it!" the sheriff yelled.

"He had the gun!" Dean yelled.

I could hear the rattling of handcuffs. "Now, is there anyone else with you?" the sheriff asked as his footsteps approached the car. Then he opened the front door and pointed his gun and flashlight at me. "Get your hands up!"

"She's just a little girl!" Sam called out.

I put my hands up and squinted at the light being shined in my eyes. I heard him holster his gun, and then he lowered the flashlight. The sheriff offered me his hand, which I took and climbed out of the car.